


The table

by KyryeDuBarie



Series: BAKT and the kinks [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, BDSM, Choking, Dom Tsukishima Kei, Edging, Face-Fucking, Humilliation Kink, I just wanted Dom Tsukki, Kay?, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Restraints, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sub Bokuto Koutarou, he has both, this is filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26936677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyryeDuBarie/pseuds/KyryeDuBarie
Summary: A slow smile spreads over Tsukishima’s lips, wide and wicked, and Koutarou knows. “You sure, Kou?” he croons, low, fingers digging hard into the smooth muscle of Koutarou’s sides. “I might make you cry.”-------------------Sort of a sequel to The Armchair
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Koutarou/Tsukishima Kei, implied
Series: BAKT and the kinks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965478
Comments: 28
Kudos: 231





	The table

**Author's Note:**

> So, um- NOSB's next chapter is kicking my ass, so I started revisiting my wips and-   
> Well you'l see, mind the tags, I wanted sweet Dom Tsukki and that's exactly what he gets, along with wrecked Kou, of course.  
> Do take in mind all kinks have been discussed off screen, these are two people in a long term relationship (with other two people lol, the BAKT is barely there tho')

It’s not like Koutarou has had any designs on continuing his and Tsukishima’s adventures involving the armchair and other pieces of furniture.

Ok, a little, but today he _was_ just helping make lunch for the both of them, choppily cutting the onions and staring at his boyfriends behind.

And his waist.

And his wide, wide back.

It may give Tsukishima a big head when Koutarou admits it, but it's true. The thought of the stringy kid he met in high school that refused to even really eat a decent-sized portion of meat, having turned into the very lickable beefcake of a man currently straining the noodles, really gets Koutarou going.

What can he say? He’s a simple man.

“I can feel you staring Bokuto,” Tsukishima says, eyes not straying from his tasks -the ones involving heat the Koutarou is banned from-.

Koutarou pouts. “No, you can’t, you’re being sneaky and watching my reflection in the window.”

The blond scoffs, irritated. “No, I’m not, I can’t see anything but your feet from here.” Koutarou can picture that pretty face, sucking his bottom lip in. He can’t help it, the onions are forgotten for a second when Koutarou swiftly turns around and hugs his boyfriend from behind, pushing up into his toes a little so he can lay his chin on Tsukishima’s shoulder.

“Hmmm-“ he says, hand straying down to grab Tsukishima’s pretty behind and squeeze it softly. “You can see way higher than my feet here. What, were you checking me out too?”

The blond shivers. “Shut up.” He lets out a little flustered sigh. “And quit that, I’m still a little-“ he mumbles. “-from last night.”

Koutarou grins, taking the hand away from the supple flesh but wrapping it around Tsukishima’s hip instead. “Aww, we weren’t _that_ rough with you.” He says, burying his face on the hollow of Tsukishima’s neck.

“Ha-“ Tsukishima huffs, turning around in Koutarou’s grip. “Sounds like you were the one kept on edge for hours.” He looks down, golden eyes half-lidded and filled with playful irritation. mischievous hands come up to brush over Koutarou’s ribs.

He’s not going to lie, it goes straight to his dick, and Koutarou shuffles forward a little to press his hips to Tsukishima’s. “Nope, but I bet I could take it.” He says, leaning into that solid chest. “Or I could spoil you a little if you want.”

For all that the days they end up both spending the day at home-besides the occasional run or gym visit- don’t happen that often, due to the nature of their careers, there is a bit of a pattern to them. They wake up, exercise, take showers, and watch trashy TV. Then Tsukishima makes lunch and-

Well, and then they generally end up having sex way into the afternoon. Koutarou happens to be feeling particularly needy today too. And Tsukishima-

A slow smile spreads over Tsukishima’s lips, wide and wicked, and Koutarou _knows_. “You sure, Kou?” he croons, low, fingers digging hard into the smooth muscle of Koutarou’s sides. “I might make you cry.”

Tsukishima doesn’t dom them often, it’s just the way things generally play out -and the fact that he looks so good when wrecked, that none of them can really resist- but it doesn’t mean he’s not overwhelmingly good at it. Koutarou can feel himself, half-hard in his pants imagining it already. “Well, make me cry.” he goads.” If you can.”

And then there’s a bruising grip on his neck, and he’s being drawn into a kiss so possessive all Koutarou can do is groan into it and press closer to Tsukishima.

It’s all over before he can even process it fully. Tsukishima turns around, cool as a cucumber. “After lunch.” He says coolly. “I’ll lay out something for you to wear on the bed.”

And Koutarou is left to adjust his suddenly very uncomfortable briefs.

.

.

This is not the first thing other people think when they look at Bokuto.

Which is exactly why Kei enjoys it so. No one would think when looking at his boyfriend with his mile-wide back and bulging muscles that he’d ever look like this. But he does, and it’s so satisfying that it makes Kei ill with want just seeing it.

Bokuto is where he left him, kneeling on top of the long, low, sturdy table that they got only half-thinking of practical applications of a lewd nature, facing the armchair that he fucked Kei into unconsciousness in just last week.

The leather encasing his wrists and the tops of his thighs isn’t padded -they both like the look of the bruises, and being off-season has it’s perks when it comes to those- and the rings where the wrist cuffs are hooked to the thigh cuffs glitter silver in the dim daylight. Between his slightly spread thighs, his cock hangs, hard, heavy, already leaking precum on the lacquered surface.

Kei smiles sweetly at his boyfriend as he walks around the little table, just watching while Bokuto’s eyes drag to his face, to his hands, nervous, hopeful, eager. He already has a hazy look in his eyes and Kei just can’t wait until he looks completely wrecked.

At the beginning of their relationship, he didn’t understand too well what the others found so fascinating about making him look like that, much as he always has enjoyed it, but over time, he’s come to realize how intoxicating it is to make someone look that way.

Especially Bokuto.

Kei stops in front of him, sitting down on the armchair, knees spread, and he can see how Bokuto’s eyes quickly wander down to the bulge in the front of his jeans before he leans down and kisses the older man sweetly, softly.

Bokuto whines, hips thrusting forward a little before he can stop himself.

“I’ve barely touched you, Kou.” Kei snickers, mean and low as he breaks away from the kiss. “Am I going to have to put a ring on you? Or can you be a good boy and behave without it?” he says, cupping Bokuto’s face on one of his hams, thumb gently massaging the place where the owl’s jaw meets his skull.

A legitimate question, since Kei really _has_ barely touched him.

“Mmm.” Bokuto leans into the touch, adoring bronze eyes meeting Kei’s. “Tsukki, you know I can be good.” He says with a small, stubborn pout.

Kei bites his lip, the hand around Bokuto’s jaw no longer gentle, his thumb digs down on the soft tissue of the jolt under it just hard enough to make his boyfriend groan. “Last I checked, mouthy isn’t a synonym for good.” He laughs louder now, free hand snaking down over the skin that stretches taut over his boyfriend’s bulging pectorals, first softly, then pinching a tan nipple with force. “And what did you call me?”

It should be pinching, painful, but Bokuto arches into the touch, both his jaw and chest. “Kei,” he calls breathily. “Kei, I called you Kei.”

He’s already flushed down to his chest, Kei shudders at the sight, the hand on Bokuto’s face caresses down his neck, fingers cautiously, and carefully brushing over the taut skin. “And?”

“And I promise I’m going to be good and not come until you let me.” Bokuto gasps, hips bucking forward again, desperate for contact. “Please, Kei.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Kei’s had scratches down his chest, he leans forward after, marveling at the way his short nails leave faint, red lines right down to the ridge of Bokuto’s hipbone, where he changes their trajectory, dragging them over Bokuto’s hip and over the swell of his ass, grabbing hard at the supple flesh there. “Or I’m gonna be mad Kou.”

But Bokuto is thinking of anything but that, he strains his neck up, begging Kei fir a kiss. “I know, I know, mad you is good too. But I want to be good, I want to be good Kei-“ He’s starting to run on, so Kei cuts him off with the so desired kiss, sucking Bokuto’s pliant tongue into his mouth. There’ll be time for Bokuto to be loud later.

Testing, he wraps one of his hands loosely around Bokuto’s throat, not squeezing, not yet, and the Owl leans into it so nicely that he almost loses his balance. Kei smirks at him. “You’re so desperate.” He snickers and Bokuto’s cheeks color.

And then he starts up, walking behind Bokuto to retrieve the toy he just brought from the toy drawer in the room.

It’s on Bokuto hasn’t used yet, and Kei can feel the Owl’s gaze on him from where he’s awkwardly half-turned to look. “Be patient.” Kei snaps softly, running his finger over the smooth beads, they’re a light golden color, ranging from as wide as his thumb to wide enough that Kei knows this is going to take a lot of lube.

He approaches Bokuto, toy in one hand, lube on the other. “I’m going to move the table a little closer to the armchair.” Something is telling him that what the way Bokuto’s thigh muscles are twitching, he might lose his balance at some point.

“I can keep upright.” Bokuto frowns a little but sits back so he’s more steady as Kei pushes the table, which slides smoothly until there’s barely any space between it and the armchair, in case Bokuto topples forward.

Kei just laughs. “You have to, Kou.”

That seems to pacify Bokuto, who nods, shifting uncomfortably on his knees. “I will.”

Kei just smirks wide, it’s not like Bokuto doesn’t enjoy the punishment that would come with that, and that’s just more bruises for him to tease later.

He kneels on the wooden table behind Bokuto, knees spread as he pulls the other back so his naked chest pressed to Bokuto’s warm, wide back. “Shhh, don’t get mouthy again,” Kei says, slicking up his hand while he plucks softly at Bokuto’s nipples. “I know you can’t wait, Kou,” he leans down to whisper in Bokuto’s ear. “Isn’t your self-control why we’re doing this? Or you wouldn’t need the cuffs. But-“he reaches down to wrap a hand around the man’s thick member, Bokuto immediately starts to thrust up into the loose circle of his fingers. –“It suits you to be so needy, you’re always needy.”

Bokuto gasps, a garbled “Kei-“ escaping his throat. “’m not the needy one,” he counters breathily.

“Really?” Kei drawls out. “You’re humping my hand-“ He says, moving his slicked up hand down between Bokuto’s cheeks and teasing his fingers over the spiker’s fluttering hole. “Don’t you think that’s needy?”

“You’re a tease,” Bokuto whines, hips stuttering, unable to decide which sensation to lean into. “I just want- Kei!” he presses back against the fingers circling his hole, just as Kei pushes the tip of one in

“Kou,” Kei warns, slipping a finger inside with little resistance, but taking his hand of Bokuto’s hardness, lifting it to pull t the man’s nipple again, twisting it, which draws an interesting cross between a gasp and a keen from the man. “What do you want to say now?” He asks, the lone digit inside Bokuto pressing lightly on the man’s prostate.

“Sorry Kei.” Bokuto pants, letting his head fall back on Kei’s shoulder, eyes shiny. “Sorry, you make me feel too good. Sorry.” And he does look guilty, so Kei presses a small kiss to his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” he says, a little tender for what he was going for, but Bokuto sags a little more, and Kei slides another finger inside of him, scissoring and spreading the spongy muscle as far as it will go, avoiding the Owl’s prostate now.

By the time he has three fingers in, Bokuto is rolling his hips back, aborted little cries escaping his throat as he cries and fails at getting Kei to touch his sensitive spot. “Please, please Kei.”

“Hmmm.” Kei trails the fingers of his free hand up and down the side of Bokuto’s torso, over his ribs where he knows the other is sensitivity. “How about you admit you’re needy Kou?” he whispers in Bokuto’s ear, stopping to suck softly at the lobe. “And I’ll let you fuck yourself on my fingers for a bit?”

.

.

There’s something about Tsukishima’s voice when he’s in a mood to be mean to Koutarou… in a sexual way, mostly, but also other times.

But right now, yeah.

Koutarou almost wants to tell him to just keep talking and let him hump his fingers, he’s sure he can come from just that. He’s so hard already and Tsukishima is still wearing pants, which is totally unfair.

But also, very, very hot -and, it’s not like he didn’t see the bulge in his pants earlier-. Tsukishima laughs, hot breath fanning over Koutarou’s cheek. “too horny to talk?” he drawls and his fingers spread out, making Koutarou cry out. “’m needy.” he huffs. “’m needy, Kei, please let me hump your fingers?”

Satisfied, the blond leans his head down and starts sucking a hickey int Koutarou’s neck. “Go ahead.” He says. Pressing his fingers into Koutarou, as deep as they can go, and curling them. God, Tsukishima has such nice fingers, such nice hands, all elegant and long, and with perfect volleyball callouses that rub Koutarou so good.

He can only concentrate on the sensation as he pumps his hips on those fingers, almost roughly because he doesn’t have so much space to move in this position. Oh, he wants to touch himself, he does and- “That good Kou?” Tsukishima asks, evenly, almost innocently as he wraps his thumb and forefinger around the head of Koutarou’s hard cock, rubbing insistently at the place right under the head where he knows Koutarou is sensitive.

“Yeah- yesh- Kei.” He pants, hips pistoning back and forward, a little confused.

“You’re close?” Tsukishima asks, and Koutarou nods furiously, gasps and moans tearing out of his throat, he _is_ close. “But we haven’t even tried out the toy.” Tsukishima lets go, his fingers pull out, and Koutarou whines at the loss, hips still rocking forward a couple of times. “That’s no good Kou.”

And Koutarou shivers because that dark tone means Tsukishima is going to be extra mean. The thought makes him moan, and he braces his hands on his thighs as well as he can, leaning forward to push out his ass to Tsukishima.

There is a sharp intake of breath. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Tsukishima says, and Koutarou can almost see the way he is smirking. “I don’t have a problem with this needy hole Kou?” Two fingers come up to stretch him, and Koutarou’s nails dig into the skin of his thighs. “As long as you play nice.”

There’s the touch of something slick and smooth over the tender skin around his hole.

It’s not fingers, because those are holding him open, both his hole and his cheeks. Koutarou moans. “I’ll play nice. Fuck my needy hole with the beds, Kei, I’ll play nice.” He babbles

“Really?” Tsukishima squeezes Koutarou’s cheek and slowly pushes the first bead. “Alright then, Kou, count for me.”

“Wh-I-Nghhh.” Koutarou groans, it’s too short, still not enough to press on his prostate. “Kei” He whines.

“Count”

And then the hand holding on to his ass is pinning down his hips and he can’t buck back, and- “One-“ Koutarou moans. “One, Kei.”

“Good boy, Kou.” Tsukishima’s voice is deep, a little mocking, and he swiftly pushes another one in, and that one does make some part of the toy brush against his prostate, Koutarou howls. “C’mon, you can do the next one.”

The thing about Tsukishima in these situations is that he’s the opposite form when he’s on the bottom, he gets extremely patient, and so smugly amused that it makes Koutarou burn a little with shame that’s not something he usually feels.

It all sends him reeling. By the time Tsukishima has him count the tenth bead, there’s drool dripping down his chin and on his chest, and he’s probably already managed to bruise his wrists. It’s all just shy of enough, his neglected erection twitches, especially when Tsukishima rises on his knees, pulling Koutarou against him just enough that he can feel something warm and hard brushing occasionally on his lower back. “Fuck me, Kei-“ It comes out garbled, barely intelligible, Koutarou strains against the cuffs, thighs tightening as he tries to lift himself on his knees s his stuffed behind will be-

An arm catches him around his middle, preventing him from toppling forward, and Tsukishima laughs. “I thought you could hold yourself upright.” There’s a little tug at the toy filling him up. “Are you not stuffed full enough yet Kou? Tch, such a slut.”

“I-“Koutarou whines, straining his neck to look back at the wicked expression on his boyfriend’s face. “I need you- Nnnh-” Koutarou tries to make it sound like a demand, but it’s more of a plea.

Tsukishima just smiles and pops one of the beads -the last, the largest one- out- making him shake and fall back into his kneeling position from before. He hears a giggle, right by his ear, and one of those elegant, lovely hands is wrapping around his throat. “Maybe if you behave a little, I’ll let you suck me off.” He says, fingers tightening slightly before they retreat completely and something cold and metallic is being snuck in one of Koutarou’s bunched up hands.

Another bead slips out, and Koutarou feels some spark of an irrational panic as he feels himself a little more empty. Then the hand is back on his neck. “Shh, you know what I just put I your hand, right?”

Koutarou breathes in, he can’t think right now, it feels like he is wading through honey when he tries. “My bell?” he croaks, and there’s a soft kiss pressed to his shoulder.

“Yes, you know when to drop it?”

“If it’s too much?” Koutarou half asks, hips vibrating with the urge to thrust back on the toy. “If it’s too much, I know, it’s not too much right now, I promise.” The hand wraps around his throat again, reassuring. “It’s fine, I want, I want-“ and he’s not sure which to ask for the toy to push in him, or the hand to begin squeezing.

Tsukishima opts for the toy, though, pressing the two final beads back into Koutarou’s convulsing hole. “Greedy-“ he says, once he has him stuffed full. “Ready?”

And when Koutarou nods, the hand tightens around the sides of his throat, his windpipe cushioned under the fleshy part of Tsukishima’s palm.

He can feel the toy sliding out again, slow, careful, it has some rigidity to is, the beads not too separated, and when Koutarou can feel his pulse behind his eyes and his vision starts to blur around the edges, Tsukishima slams the whole toy back in and lets go of his neck.

The rush is immediate, he screams, eyes rolling back, jolts of pleasure racing up from his tailbone. It’s a miracle he manages not to cum, but the barest brush to his cock would have made that a different story.

“Again?” Tsukishima asks.

Koutarou looks back at him, realizing only now that he’s tearing up. “Yes please Kei.” He says, voice hoarse. The hand at his neck rises to wipe the tears away. “Yes please.” He repeats, not finding that many other words in his head.

“Whatever you want Kou.” Tsukishima whispers, eyes dark.

Koutarou makes it three more times, each getting impossibly closer than the last, but Tsukishima knows him too well. A timed pinch to his nipples, a bit to his shoulder and he comes up just short.

“Please _please_ please-“ he is mouthing the last time, neck held tightly, eyes rolling on the back of his head, and he almost does, he _almost_ -

He comes to panting, slumped back on Tsukishima’s chest, cock still achingly hard, the bell securely inside one of his fists. “Are you ok? You went away for a little there.” Tsukishima’s voice is sot, caring, and the hand is not in his neck anymore, it’s carding through his hair. “We can stop here and go to the bed?” The blond proposes.

Koutarou whines. “No.” turning his head to press his nose to Tsukishima’s neck, taking a couple of lungfuls of the scent there to calm his racing heart down. “’m fine-“ he rasps out. “-wanna suck you off” he looks up at the blond, pleading a little. “You said I could.”

There’s a pause, and a laugh from the blond before he’s kissing Koutarou. “You’re too good,” Tsukishima says, color high in his cheeks before he helps Koutarou kneel forward, unhooking the wrist cuffs from the ones on his thighs, slipping out from behind him.

Koutarou can hear him taking whatever fabric is still on his body behind him, but he’s feeling a little too hazy to turn around. And when Tsukishima, in all his naked glory comes up in front of him and sits on the armchair, legs spread, his mouth waters and he turns around to place the bell carefully on the table behind him.

He’s still terribly hard and stuffed to the brim with the toy, Koutarou’s hips twitch and it doesn’t go unnoticed as he leans forward and Tsukishima smiles condescendingly down at him. “You can move your hips, Kou.” He knows it’s not going to be nearly enough, the knowledge probably even makes him smirk wider. Koutarou feels his own dick twitch. Both at that, and at the fact that he’s kneeling at just the right height to be faced with Tsukishima’s hard-on.

His stiff hands and wrists come forward to brace on the sides of Tsukishima’s hips. He may be a little foggy, but Koutarou still looks up at the heated look in his boyfriend’s face.

And grins, almost feral.

.

.

Bokuto probably thinks he looks badass.

But the dopey, fucked out grin he gives Kei mostly only manages to look a little wrecked and a lot smitten. Kei might have told him that much, but the very next second the Owl is wrapping a calloused hand around his erection, and all that comes out of his mouth is a groan.

He _has_ barely touched himself all this time, and to see Bokuto, who is usually teasing Kei, making _that_ face and begging Kei, it just

A warm, wide mouth closes around the head of his cock, and Kei can’t quite finish that train of thought.

Bokuto sets a fast pace, taking more of Kei with every bob of his head, pausing only to slobber over the head to make the whole thing easier. And Kei can’t help it hen his fingers thread through the gelled up spikes of his boyfriend’s hair and push him all the way down.

Bokuto chokes, tears springing one again to his eyes, and he looks up at Kei, pleading. “Good Kou-“ he says, transfixed. “You can touch yourself because you’re taking me so perfectly. But you can’t come yet.” Bokuto’s eyes roll into the back of his head and Kei releases him.

The owl coughs a little, pulling off, strings of saliva still connecting him to Kei’s hard member. “Keiiii-“ he whines, bringing his head to the sided rubbing it over Kei’s hipbone, tongue darting out to give kitten licks to the middle of his shaft. “C’mon, I’ve been good.” He moans.

Kei licks his lips, lone of his hands tugging hard at Bokuto’s hair, the other brushing ff the tears and coming up to his mouth. “A little more,” he smirks, pulling Bokuto’s head over his cock again. “No cumming Kou.”

To be fair, Bokuto takes the challenge in stride, he relaxes his throat, pretty tawny eyes fixed on Kei, filled with something close to reverence as he quite literally chokes around Kei’s shaft, throat convulsing, eyes watering. One of his hands grabs on to Kei’s hips for some balance, gripping hard enough that he is going to have bruises. The other is pumping Bokuto’s reddened, neglected erection, slow and careful. He’s always so eager to please like this.

Even if it means having some measure of control over himself when he’s losing his mind.

If Kei’s phone were anywhere that didn’t require for him to stop fucking Bokuto’s mouth to use it, he’d definitely take pictures.

-Kuroo and Akaashi would be happy to have those too-

Kei lets him breathe for a second. “You can grab o s hard as you need.” He says softly, relishing the sting of Bokuto’s short nails on his skin. “You’re doing great, we’re almost done.”

Bokuto nods eagerly, and then he’s bobbing back down and taking control over the pace, Kei’s hands in his hair no longer enough to move him to his will. It’s too much and Kei’s control finally snaps enough for him to throw his head back and groan, hands going to the armrests of the chair, nails digging holes into them. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he bucks up into Bokuto’s mouth. “Kou- nnnngh.”

The man doesn’t relent, a furrow growing between his brow, only when Kei brings his hands back into the ruined, gelled up hair and pulls roughly does he allow himself to be moved, coinciding perfectly with the moment Kei comes, all over his face and neck with a shout.

Smug, Bokuto smiles, licking over his lips, eyes hazy and unfocused, hand still stroking idly at his cock.

Kei takes a moment to recover, then swings his legs over the side of the armchair and grabs Bokuto’s shoulders with his hands, carefully, wordlessly, guiding the owl forward so his chest and neck are pressed to the leather of the armchair.

His fingers brush down Bokuto’s back, and Kei kneels behind him, on the table. He looms over Bokuto, leaving soft touches all over his back, his ribs, and hips, relishing on the soft shivers and mewls that this tears form the silver-haired man. He works his way down, down, _down,_ until he’s brushing the tops of the swell of Bokuto’s cheeks, and then he presses his body, completely to the Owl’s back, one hand going to the ring that’s connected to the anal beads, the other around Bokuto’s thick, straining erection.

“Shhh, it’s fine now, you did very well Kou,” Kei says, slowly pulling out the toy so Bokuto can feel every bead, almost up to the one at the end. “You can come now, you earned it, needy thing.”

And then he slams the toy back in, the thumb of his other hand rubbing relentlessly at the lace just under the head of his boyfriend’s cock that he knows he loves.

Bokuto almost convulses in his arms, and Kei smirks.

.

.

“You can come now, you earned it, needy thing.” Tsukishima’s voice is just as caring as it is a little mocking, and it lances lightning though Koutarou’s every nerve end

He’s being overcome, there’s no other way to say it. Koutarou’s knees burn and his throat is raw, but Tsukishima is pressed to his back, mounting an irresistible assault on both his front and back, using the fact that he knows Koutarou’s body to his advantage.

And he’s putty in Tsukishima’s hands, his muscles spasm, shoulders tightening, abs not strong enough to hold him up so that he ends up with his back arched, ass offered up like a treat. His boyfriend is relentless, and Koutarou only knows he‘s managing to both drool and screams Tsukishima’s name at the same time.

And it’s everything it’s-

He comes, eyes rolling back, muscles tensing all together then relaxing so he’s boneless, floaty, and very much unable to move.

Another one of his lovers might start testing his boneless, overstimulated body, even Koutarou himself. But Tsukishima is usually softer like this.

Koutarou only knows there are hands softly rubbing through the knots on his back. “Are your knees ok?” Koutarou shakes his head. “Do they hurt bad?” he shakes his head again, they’re a dull, far off ache by now.

Tsukishima hums. “Alright, c’mon Kou, I’m taking you to the bed, ok?” he asks, and the hands are gone, instead there is an arm slipping under Koutarou’s and someone -strong, _strong,_ his pent brain cries- is helping him over to their bedroom. Koutarou whines, its hard to stay upright, and cold.

“I’m going to take all the cuffs off, alright?” Koutarou nods, leaning into that pretty voice, eyelids heavy. “And then I’ll clean you up, we can shower when you’re er- less hazy.”

“Mmm’kay-“ he agrees as he’s carefully laid down somewhere soft that smells nice. “Love ya.”

There’s a pause in which Koutarou curls on his side, shivering a little. “Love you too Kou." Tsukishima’s voice says as a warm, wet thing runs over Koutarou’s face and his chest and abdomen. Then Someone warm is wrapping around him. “Just for a little, we have to shower.”

Koutarou lets himself drift off.

.

.

By the time the front door clicks open, Kei’s arm is more than a little numb.

But oh well, it’s not like he can actually move Bokuto, it was hard enough back when he actually had to after the scene and the Owl is a pretty nice source of heat where he is, curled up into Kei, clutching him like a teddy bead, sound asleep.

“You two were playing in your free time again.” Kuroo all but bursts into the room, face equal parts amused and annoyed. “Did you take pictures? We want pictures.”

Kei laughs softly, pressing a lip to his lips. Kuroo can be a little like a child sometimes. “There wasn’t any time.” He says with a little smirk of his own, hand coming down to thread through Bokuto’s unstyled hair. “Kou was _very_ good.”

Kuroo goes red, Kei rejoices.

“Oh really?” Says a pretty, even voice from behind Kuroo, and Kei freezes. “Shame you didn’t show us. I’m going to have to be a little hard on you next time Kei.” And then Akaashi comes through the door, a lot earlier than he usually is.

And all of Kei’s rejoicing turns to jittery blushing, still, he burrows further int Bokuto’s embrace, stoking idly over the faint outlines of bruises on the man’s wrists. “Do your worst.” He says, sticking his tongue out at Akaashi.

The expression that befalls both Akaashi and Kuroo’s faces then might just be enough to make him both a little excited and scared for his own self.

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked writing this! I'm also really ashamed now for some reason.  
> Imma go hide.  
> I hope y'll like it and I would love to know what you think. (now I wanna write mean dom 'kaashi, and sub Kuroo aaaa)
> 
> Love y'all, Kyrye


End file.
